


Slap-Happy

by Omorka



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Polyamory, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After-hours goings-on at the firehouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slap-Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of fluff!smut, although hey, I finally wrote some R/W!

"Well," Peter yawned, "I think I've done about as much paperwork as I can stand for one night."

Winston rolled out from under the car and sat up. "So, you signed your name more than once, you mean?"

"Har-de-har," the team psychologist sniffed. "I'll have you know I'm actually caught up on billable invoices for once. And that calls for a celebration." Peter stood, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his knuckles. "I'm going to finish off that pint of rocky road in the freezer, assuming the Spud hasn't beaten me to it."

Ray's muffled voice came from somewhere under Ecto-1's hood. "I don't think he has. He seemed pretty full after he scarfed down the rest of the doughnuts, and I haven't seen him around since lunch." The engineer's boots barely touched the ground, and his top half disappeared completely into Ecto's grime-encrusted innards.

Peter headed up the stairs. "Let's hope he hasn't remembered it. I'd hate to have to blast him just so I can enjoy a well-deserved frosty treat in peace." He glanced from side to side, as if expecting the little green ghost to erupt from the walls at any moment.

"Now you're just teasing him," called Ray, the metal body of the car making his voice sound hollow.

"Yeah, man, if you really want to keep your ice cream, you need to stop talking about it like that," added Winston, cleaning his hands on the shop towel hung off his belt. He glanced down at his uniform and grimaced; he had several broad streaks of grease and road soot across his chest.

"Only if he can hear me," grinned Peter as he headed off in the direction of the kitchen. His boots echoed down the firepole's opening and faded.

Winston opened his locker door to look in the mirror. Yup, he had a smudge just below his eye. He scrubbed at it with the last clean corner of the towel, and then looked back at Ecto. She was coming along fine. The Class Six that had burrowed through the asphalt of the streets like a dolphin swimming through water had shaken the old ambulance up and knocked a brake line loose, but they'd fixed it, and as soon as Ray was finished adding more fluid, they could test her out.

He glanced over. The brake fluid canister was on its side on the floor, empty already. What was Ray doing now?

Winston edged around Ecto's front fender, and found himself with a fine view of Ray's posterior, perched in the air as he reached into Ecto's interior a little farther than his arms really were meant to go. He was on his tip-toes, most of his weight on Ecto's grille rather than the floor, his back tensed and his arms straight out.

Winston couldn't help himself, he really couldn't. He barely even thought about it. He twirled the shop towel and snapped it directly at Ray's ass. The younger man _yelped_ and nearly toppled over into Ecto's engine.

Winston knew what was coming next; he whirled around and took off for the stairs, laughing. Ray swore as he extricated himself from Ecto, and Winston realized that running up to the second floor would take him out of Ray's range directly into Peter's. Peter had never met a prank war he didn't love, and tended to not want to let it go. Reconsidering, Winston changed course, wheeled around Janine's desk as a delaying tactic, and then made for the basement stairs instead.

Ray didn't fall for the feint; he leapfrogged over the secretary's desk, knocking over her pencil cup but leaving it otherwise undisturbed (too bad Peter hadn't seen that one; he'd have had to take back some of the things he'd said about Ray's lack of athleticism) and then vaulted over the bannister, landing heavily on the first flight down to the basement. Winston was delayed by the heavy door, and almost didn't get it closed again before Ray caught up to him.

The oldest Ghostbuster took the stairs two at a time and realized that he was in trouble. He could either head for the alcove that held the control equipment for the containment unit, or for the downstairs workshop. Both were dead ends.

Ray burst through the door. "Okay, Winston, you're gonna get it!" he hollered, bounding down the stairs after him. Winston decided that the longer haul to the control panel gave him more of an edge - the workshop was a tight enough squeeze that he lost his speed advantage, and Ray's smaller size might actually give him a mobility boost by comparison. Besides, Ray kept his occult stuff in there; he might have it booby-trapped. The last thing Winston needed was to get himself hexed and have to beg Ray - or, worse, Egon - to dispel it.

His boots pounded across the floor grating, Ray's right behind him. But now that he had a straightaway, he was pulling away again . . .

"Slimer, cookies!" shouted Ray.

The green ghost spilled through the walkway right in front of Winston. "Cwookiez? Whewre?"

Winston dodged left and avoided the puddle of ectoplasm, but just barely. Ray, on the other hand, had been expecting it, and took advantage of Winston's precarious balance to put on a sudden burst of speed.

He shot past Winston and _smacked_ him hard on the butt, then barely managed to avoid crashing into the ectoetheric particle controller. The engineer skidded to a stop, gasping for breath and laughing so hard he was redder than the containment unit.

Winston regained his balance and charged straight for Ray. "All right, for that I ought to turn you over my knee, man, don't think I won't!"

"You'll have to catch me first," grinned Ray, taking off again and heading straight for the workshop door. Winston cornered and made a grab for him, barely missing. The two clattered across the grating again.

Slimer dive-bombed them. "Whewre cwookiez, Wray? Whewre?"

Ray went left, Winston went right, and Slimer whooshed through the air between them. "Upstairs, Slimer, in the kitchen!" Ray shouted, and the little green blob soared away, oozing through the ceiling.

Ray reached out to grab the railing next to the containment unit to make the corner, and Winston's hand closed on his wrist. They collided and went down in a heap on the containment platform.

"Oof," commented Ray. Then a pair of strong hands dragged him off of his back and rolled him onto his stomach, draped across Winston's lap. One of those hands landed smack on his ass again.

"Told ya," smirked Winston.

Ray grinned up at him. "Too big a target to miss the opportunity?"

"Too sweet, more like," The large, calloused hand fell back to Ray's backside, but it was more of a caress than another spanking.

Ray wriggled, rubbing himself against Winston's thigh just enough to let him know what effect his home discipline was having. "How come I'm getting spanked when you're the one who was naughty?"

"Because you were showing off. You'd filled the brake fluid reservoir already; you were just hoping Peter or I would notice you had your rump stuck up in the air. Besides," Winston added, "you know calling in Slimer for backup is cheating."

"Was not. I just noticed that there was a coolant hose that needed tightening." Ray looked thoughtful, or at least as thoughtful as he could turned over Winston's knee. "Not that I wasn't, you know, hoping someone would notice, but . . . "

Winston laughed, and grabbed another handful of Ray. The smaller man rolled to his knees and pushed the older man flat on his back on the platform, pressing a greedy kiss to his lips.

\---

The spare monitor in the lab had been originally tuned to show each of the security cameras around the firehouse in turn, but the long-nailed finger on the remote had stopped it at one particular view for several minutes. "_Is_ calling in Slimer for backup really cheating?" Janine asked, the nails on her other hand trailing across the back of Egon's neck. "It seems like it takes one of Ray's and my few advantages away."

"Anything involving the spud is cheating by definition," argued Peter, sliding one arm across Egon's shoulders and reaching past him to slide one finger around the curl of Janine's ear. He was a little surprised that their secretary could read lips over the camera system, but then again, she could read anything, including his handwriting and Egon's body language.

"It does seem a little incongruous to involve a creature of Thanatos in the games of Eros," offered the physicist, one hand busy at Janine's chest, the other between Peter's thighs. His eyes never left the screen.

"Ugh, okay, if you're going to put it that way." She leaned back into the cushions of the well-worn sofa and moaned, the remote slipping from her hand. "You think they know they're on Candid Camera, here?"

"Ray knows," Egon affirmed. "He and I designed the closed-circuit system, and he installed that particular camera himself. And while it's possible he forgot to mention it to Winston, Ray's considerable expertise does not extend to deliberately keeping secrets."

As if to agree with Egon, the figure of Ray on the screen looked up from Winston's fly and winked at them. Winston either didn't notice or was too wrapped up in what Ray was doing to care.

Peter dipped the fingers of one hand in a small container beside the couch and offered the hand to Egon, who sucked one finger into his mouth and began licking it clean. "It's not like we couldn't hear them, anyway. Mmm, Egon, do that again."

"You could just share the ice cream," snickered Janine.

"Your wish is my command, milady." Peter plucked the spoon from the pint and dribbled half a spoonful down her cleavage. She shrieked, and then dissolved into giggles as Egon dove after it, grinning madly. Peter slid his arms around them both, spooning up behind the physicist and rocking the couch gently with his weight, as one of the two silent figures on the screen threw his head back, eyes closed, mouth wide, hands tight on his partner.


End file.
